


love dressed up as cruelty

by deceptivelycomplex3925



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9460121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deceptivelycomplex3925/pseuds/deceptivelycomplex3925
Summary: For a split second she thinks she’s imagining it. The click of those heels. That voice.But when she tips her eyes up and sees the hazel nestled in jade, sharp and glittering and fond, the cocked hip and arms crossed over a midnight blue blouse, it takes all of her restraint not to crack the marble beneath her palms.“M-Ms. Grant?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was because of a certain asshole who roped me into filling a prompt. 
> 
> This is basically my first time writing these two and it's 8:15 in the morning (oh my gosh, OUAT reference?!) and I haven't slept and I forgot words like 'paper towels' and 'pea coat' while writing this so, yeah. 
> 
> I'm going to sleep now.
> 
> Oh, the prompt was: "Are you drunk?"

Kara was going to kill Alex.

She really was.

Okay…she wasn’t, and honestly even the thought of it - flashes of memories, her sister’s shining eyes and tremulous pleas - makes her feel like her stomach is trying to extricate itself from her body.

But she _was_ mad. Like, _really_ mad.

Okay, maybe not _that_ mad but she was definitely miffed. Irritated. Sufficiently _not_ pleased.

Because ever since she’d told her sister that she may possibly like both men and women, she’s been nothing short of…ecstatic. Overzealous, a complete and thoroughly supportive wing woman.

_So, Lena Luthor, huh?_

There had been her super flushed cheeks (pun intended?) and gasps of sputtering laughter, followed by _Alex! That’s - totally and utterly…I, and she’s_ \- she’d flapped her hands about, a clear message - _anyway!_

So that had sealed it. After a week of radio silence - radio silence being the proud, wide smiles Alex had been giving her en lieu of verbal encouragement - enacted by Kara herself, Alex had showed up at her doorstep armed with two boxes of pizza and pot-stickers and Kara had been too enamored with the food she was shoveling down her throat to notice Alex sneaking her phone away and downloading the Her app and setting up a profile for her.

Cut to her in a black, sleeveless dress just a sneeze away from hurdling over the line of public decency, sitting across a gorgeous, long-haired brunette.

And though her eyes were a deep caramel, inviting and kind, and her velvet voice the icing on top of a cake she’d very much dip her finger in, she’d been distracted all night. Fidgeting constantly, adjusting her glasses, biting the inside of her mouth, bouncing her foot encased in a heel far too high for even her super balance.

She’d thought her well-placed giggles and smiles had been enough to hide her wandering mind but when a warm hand lands softly on top of her own, stilling her fingers where they had been drumming, she looks up with wide eyes, mouth parting.

Her date, Danielle, isn’t angry, though. She looks amused. “Am I really so boring, Kara?”

“Oh,” she lets out a whoosh of air, a chuckle interwoven in the noise. “No. No, of course not. You’re…you’re wonderful and _gorgeous_ ,” she breathes because well, she is, and she twists her mouth as she contemplates how honest she wants to be. “It’s just..” she sighs, embarrassment and maybe a lot of nervousness warming her cheeks and stuttering in her chest. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a date,” she settles on the half-truth, “do you mind if I-?” She points over Danielle’s shoulder to the restrooms. “I promise I’m not bailing, I just -”

“Need a breather,” the brunette finishes, benevolent eyes crinkling with her smile.

Kara lets out a grateful breath, squeezing the woman’s hand before scooting off her stool and making her way toward the restrooms.

She’s bowing her head and gripping the round marble sink a little too hard when she hears the door squeak open, the muted pulse of the music spilling unfettered into the room before it’s dulled again with the soft click of metal.

“I hope you’re at least planning to let her under that dress of yours after leaving such a lovely woman sitting alone in a bar filled with overweight, butch lesbians on the prowl.”

Kara freezes. And thank _god_ she’s the one with the super hearing because she’s not sure she’d be able to handle having this particular person hear how quickly her heart is beating right now.

For a split second she thinks she’s imagining it. The click of those heels. That voice.

But when she tips her eyes up and sees the hazel nestled in jade, sharp and glittering and fond, the cocked hip and arms crossed over a midnight blue blouse, it takes all of her restraint not to crack the marble beneath her palms.

“M-Ms. Grant?”

“I can’t believe you waited until _after_ I left to come out of the closet. Really, Kiera. I could have used the pick-me-up after some of my more hellish mornings.”

“I -” Kara shakes her head, not really sure she can move, her body feeling as if it’s at a permanent standstill. “I’m sorry?”

“Ms. Grant,” Kara breathes, cutting off whatever snide comment Cat was about to level at her; she feels her stomach twist at the eye roll she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. “What are you -” she remembers exactly where they are and her brow furrows together even more, face scrunching, “What are you doing _here_?”

Cat lifts a shoulder, as if it’s a normal occurrence, her being at a gay bar. “They serve better drinks here,” she says, overly nonchalant. There’s the little hiccup in her heartbeat, though, and Kara feels her nervousness ebb away a little. Feels a surge of confidence that usually only surfaces when she’s in her suit and cape.

She feels a teasing smirk curve her lips, feeling like now, in this setting, with Cat no longer her boss, and her heart still beating a fair bit quicker than normal, she can maybe get away with her next words. She turns to face Cat fully. “Better drinks or a better selection for a bed mate?”

She guesses she should have been better prepared for it but when Cat’s brow ticks up, and her eyes slide down, a hum vibrating in her chest, one that Kara _feels_ , Kara almost swallows her own tongue.

 _Rao_.

“ _Bed mate_ , Kara, really?” Cat says, voice dropping into an octave that has Kara thinking of curling smoke and Bourbon. Kara’s eyes flutter at the proper usage of her name, sucking in a breath through her teeth. Cat sees it, hears it. Smirks.

And then she’s stepping forward, into Kara’s personal space, face inches from hers before she turns her head, one of her honey blonde curls tickling at Kara’s cheekbone as one hand rests against the marble at her left hip and the other reaches behind Kara.

“I don’t take bed mates,” she husks, her mouth directly at Kara’s ear. Kara holds her breath, a shudder rippling down her back, hair standing on end at the nape of her neck. “I take _lovers_ , and tonight there are very few women out there I’m interested in playing with.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Kara exhales, the sound more a moan than she’d intended, and her cheeks burn when it echoes in the small room, loud and very, very clear.

“Do you like the idea of that, Kara? A woman in my bed?” Cat’s fingers are trailing slow circles into the fabric of the dress sitting right at her hipbone. She shivers at the touch but bristles at the words.

“No,” she says through clenched teeth, a wave of lashing heat scoring across her skin at the thought of someone else touching Cat. Of Cat _enjoying_ it, _allowing_ it.

She’s forgotten that she’s supposed to be in here giving herself a pep talk, wringing her hands in apprehension at the thought of kissing a woman for the first time. She’s forgotten she’s left Danielle waiting. She’s forgotten she’s in a grimy bathroom of a gay bar.

She knows nothing but the heat rolling off of Cat in thick waves, the wandering fingers becoming more and more deliberate.

“No,” Cat repeats, and Kara can hear the smile. “Not the sharing type?”

Cat’s hand snakes around to the dip in her back, where the copper in her zipper kisses onyx fabric, and flexes her fingers. Kara’s back arcs in response and Cat’s lips graze her jawline. Cat leans into Kara, their fronts pressing together, and _oh_. Fire licks at her veins and her own fingers curl, denting marble, five perfect marks.

“Well,” she rasps against the lobe of Kara’s ear, “I think any of that pesky nervousness should be taken care of now, hm?”

Cat’s pulling away in the next second, stepping backward, her left hand wrapped around a few brown paper towels.

And then, she walks out, heels snicking with every step.

Kara sags against the sink, legs trembling.

She exhales, rough and ragged and tinged with shock.

What in the _hell_ just happened?

 

* * *

 

“All my hard work and not even a kiss on the cheek.” Cat clicks her tongue and Kara spins around. Cat’s leaning against the outside wall of the bar, a light grey trench coat over her shoulders now, lapels open and belt catching in the cool night’s air.

“Are you drunk?”

Cat startles at the tone. But Kara isn’t going to apologize for it. She wasn’t going to be Cat’s plaything for the night.

“No,” Cat says, word hitched high. “Is that why you look like you’re seconds away from melting my face off with only the force of your glare?”

She sounds too amused to be contrite and Kara sets her jaw, wrapping her own pea coat tighter around her middle.

“It was lovely to see you, Ms. Grant. I wish you a safe travel on your way back home.”

She tries to brush past Cat, even if she’s going the wrong way, but a hand wraps around her bicep and though she could easily wrench out of it, she allows the hold, stops.

She doesn’t turn, though. Not yet. She’s mortified to find that she’s on the verge of tears.

“Kara…” Cat whispers.

“I don’t need your pity, Cat,” She uses her name like Cat does her own, a weapon. “Nor did I ever think you cruel.” She works her jaw to abate the burn at her eyelids. It doesn’t really work. “But what you did back there…”

“Oh, Kara.”

And she’s being tugged to turn, to move closer, and Cat’s holding her strings, so she obeys.

Fingers brush over her cheek, catching a few tears, before they tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

She doesn’t meet Cat’s eyes until a crooked finger tilts her chin up.

“My beautiful girl.” It’s the reverence that knocks something loose inside of Kara. The crinkle at the corners of such expressive eyes, the affectionate smile, small and one so like those she reserved only for Carter.

"Your first kiss with a woman should be as extraordinary as you are, Kara."

Her mind’s reeling at the amount of times her name has been said tonight by lips she’s ached for for so long. The two syllables being curved and enunciated in that way only Cat has.

She doesn’t miss the subtle adjective just like she didn’t miss the melting glare comment earlier.

They’ve both known for a while, had come to a tacit agreement, and now Kara feels that ache again, more pronounced with each dip of Cat’s gaze to her lips.

“Do you trust me?” Kara asks on a whisper.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?”

There’s a glint in darkening green eyes that makes Kara bite at the inside of her mouth.

“Hold on,” Kara murmurs as she wraps her arms around Cat, as Cat wraps her own around Kara’s neck.

“Don’t you dare drop me,” Cat hisses.

Kara rolls her eyes and tightens her arms.

Like she’d ever drop Cat Grant of all people.


End file.
